


Engineering

by litsasecret



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-11 17:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litsasecret/pseuds/litsasecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam Lambert ends up on the NX-01 after an incident with a local population during a concert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Engineering

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "101 Places to Fornicate" challenge over on [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/teamcockbert/profile)[**teamcockbert**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/teamcockbert/) for the prompt "The USS Enterprise". [](http://moirariordan.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**moirariordan**](http://moirariordan.dreamwidth.org/) is the best prompter ever. Officially, I mean.
> 
> Set sometime before S3 of Enterprise.

  
Being called to the Captain's Mess in the middle of his night wasn't exactly a rare occurrence for Trip, but he was wary as he stepped into the crowded room. For one, it was crowded, not just the Captain and T'Pol, like usual; for another, there was a trail of glitter on the carpet outside the door, leading all the way back to the lift.

He recognized one of the strangers, an interplanetary super-star, and given the matching costumes and copious amounts of glitter on the others, he'd hazard a guess as they were Adam Lambert's band and crew.

"Captain?" he asked warily, because his initial thought of 'What the _hell_?' wasn't really appropriate around company.

"Something went wrong at a performance," Captain Archer said. "We were asked to step in and extract the performers."

Which explained why the performers' costumes were torn and partially removed, and why Adam's makeup was smudged so badly he looked like some monster from an old horror flick.

He noted the proximity of two of the performers to Adam, one snugly tucked against the singer's side, the other hovering protectively.

"If you don't mind my asking, what went wrong?"

Adam leaned forward, ignoring the quelling hand from the lithe man against his side. Adam opened his mouth to speak, but the other shook his head. Adam glared, and his companion subsided with a stubborn slant to his jaw.

"I'd like to know that too," the captain said, a hard edge creeping into his voice.

"It's my fault," Adam said, finally. "So if they start saying it was Tommy, don't believe them, okay? It was my fault. I knew they had a sex taboo, and I still went ahead with the usual choreography. I didn't tell anyone else about the sex taboo, even though my dancers and Tommy had a right to know, okay?"

The other people in the room all started protesting, things like "We should all read the brief, not just you!" and "I saw the brief, and I bit you anyway, okay?"

T'Pol spoke smoothly under the clamor, in that creepy, calm way she had, "And this caused a riot?"

"Well, I mean, I guess so? Tommy bit me during the opening song, which he does, sometimes, and they were all... worked up-- I don't know how to explain, but I could _feel_ it, I should have stopped the performance then. And then between Taylor, Terrance, and Tommy in the next song, they got... violent? And they came up on the stage, destroyed our equipment..."

His arm curled around Tommy. "They got him down and just started _kicking_. You have no idea how grateful I am..." he trailed off and shook his head. "If you had been any further away, some of my people might have died. And it would have been my fault."

"Right then," the captain said abruptly, moving toward the intercom. "Dr. Phlox to the Captain's Mess," he said.

Dr. Phlox replied affably, "On my way," just as used to weird middle-of-the-night summons as Trip.

"T'Pol, do we have anywhere for our guests to sleep?"

"One of the crew quarters is empty," she said. "But otherwise we are at capacity."

"Well, can't we move a couple of ensigns around, maybe? Or--"

"We're okay in cramped quarters, sir," Adam interrupted. "I don't know if you know this, but even the warp four commercial ships are tiny still. It's cheaper; you have a smaller warp field, so you use less anti-matter in the injection arrays, and your deflector doesn't need as much power."

"Of course," one of the Adam's crew interjected smoothly. "You'll know all about the mechanics of warp flight."

"Me? No, I leave all of that to Trip, here," he said, clapping a hand on Trip's shoulder. "But I need to go get some sleep at some point tonight, I have a ship to run in the morning. If you need anything, just find Sub-Commander T'Pol or Commander Tucker, okay?"

And then he left. Which explained why Trip had been roused from his rest, because leaving human interplanetary performers alone with a couple of aliens while they were still a little shell-shocked wasn't a great plan.

He sighed, quietly, and settled into a chair to wait for the Doc to clear them so he could cram all of them into some tiny quarters, notify his crew and Chef that they were there, and generally do everything the XO was supposed to do but wouldn't think to because she was Vulcan.

Dr. Phlox insisted that Tommy and the two male dancers take it easy so their various bruises would have a chance to heal, but pronounced the group otherwise healthy. Trip watched as they situated themselves in the crew quarters T'Pol assigned them, leaving only when Adam's comment of "At least we don't have to share it with our equipment and costumes, right?" drew a shaky laugh from everyone.

He knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep soon enough to get anything useful out of the rest of the night, so he headed down to engineering to get some work done. He was working on perfecting the injection mix, and he could kick his skeleton crew out and just do some math, this time of night.

It was why he hadn't complained when the captain had disappeared earlier. Sometimes he needed the middle of the night, to just think.

He was halfway through moving some hand-figured equations to the computer, maybe an hour later, when soft footsteps approached him from behind.

Trip startled, looking up and shoving the papers under his padd defensively. It was Adam Lambert.

"Hi," Adam said shyly. He was clean-faced, the glitter a passing memory. "I had to get away, and I followed the sub-harmonics. So-- here I am. I can leave though, if that's--"

"No, stay," Trip said, pulling his papers back out to organize them a little better before saving the work on the padd and setting everything aside.

"What can I do for you?"

Adam shrugged. "Just need some time to process, you know?"

"I can show you to the observation deck, if you want?"

Adam shuddered, shook his head. "I still get space-sick, even after a year of touring."

Trip nodded. "You ain't the only one," he said, thinking of Hoshi. "But the sub-harmonics don't bother you?"

"Because no one's telling me they aren't here, actually. Apparently commercial ships are well shielded and I'm only imagining I can sense the sub-harmonics."

Trip snorted.

"Thanks, Commander Tucker," Adam said, smiling, and Trip could see freckles on his lips. It was crazy; his baby sister's favorite entertainer was right here, on the Enterprise with him, close enough that he could see his _freckles_.

"Call me Trip," he heard himself saying, autopilot.

Adam laughed. "Thanks, then, Trip. I know you were working, and you don't have to--"

Trip shrugged. "Just messin' with some equations. I'd need T'Pol breathin' over my shoulder to consider it work."

"Yeah, I feel that way about singing sometimes, right? It's only work when they're making you do it; otherwise, it's just what you do." Adam took a step closer. "Like you couldn't stop doing it if you tried."

Trip's throat went dry, and Adam's intense gaze was robbing him of the ability to string words together anyway. He swallowed hard.

"Now," Adam said. "Forgive me if I'm being too forward, but here's what I want; I want you to suck me off right here in engineering where I can feel the radiation like glitter in my blood, and then we'll go to your quarters and you can fuck me."

Trip groaned, deep in the back of his throat.

"Or," Adam said. "I can go back to my people and let Tommy and Terrance fawn over me and forget I ever came down here. No harm done. It's your choice, Trip."

Without really thinking about it, Trip sank to his knees. Adam breathed out suddenly, "Yes," and Trip deftly zipped the bottom zipper of the standard uniform up, just enough that he could take Adam Lambert's cock out and admire it. Adam Lambert, Trip thought. This is actually happening.

Adam rested a hand in Trip's hair. "Wait," he said, and pulled out some prophylactics.

"But," Trip tried to protest.

"No-- never trust a man, especially not one who says he's clean." His voice was gentle, caring.

"Okay," Trip said, and he'd been pregnant before, he should be grateful for the consideration, not... disappointed.

Trip rolled the condom on, following it with his mouth, gentle suction while he tested different movements. Adam was one of the most considerate people he'd done this with, hands on his shoulders, not bunched in his hair, soft breathy directions, controlling the thrust of his hips.

Trip brought a hand up to help Adam along, easy movements, then harder, faster, then, he tipped his head back, just right, and swallowed.

Adam cried out, unable to control the first desperate thrust, and Trip smirked a little, loving the fact that he could take apart a famous entertainer as easily as any other person.

A little more pressure, a careful swallow, and Adam was _there_, hips stuttering through his orgasm, Trip pulling away carefully and working him through it, before neatly removing the prophylactic and discarding it in the proper receptacle.

He was hard and dizzy with pleasure and lust when he stood up. "My quarters?" he asked, shaky.

"God, yes." Adam said.

Trip was pretty sure at least five people saw him stumbling toward his quarters with Adam, but he didn't care. Shift change must be soon, and he was gonna be late. He still didn't care. He sent a note to his second with the last of his coherent thought, then he turned around, and Adam was naked, tiny bottle of lubricant in one hand, prophylactics in the other. Adam Lambert. Naked.

Trip swallowed hard. "Aww, hell," he said softly, moving to _touch_, to do something, and Adam leaned in to kiss him, soft, gentle, before pulling back with a smirk.

"Aren't you a little overdressed?"

Trip growled, pushing Adam down against his bed, ignoring the 'oof' from Adam when his head hit the bulkhead instead of the pillow, bending to kiss him further, while Adam fumbled with the unfamiliar zippers of Trip's uniform.

Trip pulled away long enough to take care of it himself, then he went back to kissing Adam desperately.

"'Kay," Adam said when the both stopped for air. "I think you promised me some action here, baby."

Trip groaned, pulling himself off a little more, fingers tracing over Adam's skin, noting the freckles there too, everywhere. It brought back the surreal feeling to the whole encounter. He groaned, reaching for the lubricant and spilling it over his fingers.

Adam moved beneath him, drawing his legs up and exposing himself, contorting a little to fit on the bed without bruising himself. It was certainly bigger than the beds in crew quarters, but the Enterprise wasn't a luxury yacht.

Trip wasted no time with niceties, Adam all but sending him a written invitation anyway, and slid two fingers in, teasing and stretching and _there_, that was what he was looking for, and Adam arched and groaned under him, all masculine power and exactly what Trip needed after too long out here saving delicate princesses.

Trip slid the condom on himself this time, lining up and thrusting smoothly, Adam arching up under him, eager and groaning, pupils dilated and lips parted. Trip pressed his forehead to Adam's shoulder, gasping for air from the _heat_ of it, fingers digging into Adam's skin, most likely leaving marks. Adam hitched his legs up higher, encouraging Trip, _more, harder, faster_ falling from his lips.

It had been too long, for Trip; before long he was losing rhythm and then he was coming, thrusting erratically, Adam clutching him tight and saying "That's it, baby, let go for me, oh, so beautiful," then reaching between them and jacking himself when Trip collapsed, spent.

After, Adam threw his head back, and sighed, tucking Trip against his side. "You're okay with cuddling, right? Because I'm a cuddler. It's a flaw, I know."

Trip groaned, exhausted.

"I'm taking that as a yes. Goodnight, Trip," Adam said, stroking Trip's hair and humming a vaguely familiar melody as Trip drifted on endorphins.


End file.
